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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338543">T-shirts and Revelations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkat8986/pseuds/Kitkat8986'>Kitkat8986</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkat8986/pseuds/Kitkat8986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Scully attend a training, and Mulder learns more than he expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>T-shirts and Revelations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fun parts of being an FBI agent are few and far between. Between the tedium or paperwork and the horror of the crimes they solve, there is almost nothing that could be described as fun. And don’t get him started on the teamwork seminars. But there is always training. And training is the one chance he gets to feel like a badass without the pesky realities of the job sneaking in. He’s a good enough shot, and he can run for days. So instead of being relegated to the spooky basement, here he actually gets to shine for a moment.</p>
<p>Which is why he’s in a good mood during the mingling that inevitably goes along with coworkers waiting for something more interesting to start. At least he is until Agent clearly-doesn’t-value-his-own-life says, “Hey Mulder, your girlfriend is looking hot!” There are a handful of low whistles and one appreciative “damn!” before he opens his mouth to say, “Agent Scully is not my girlfriend.”</p>
<p>But he doesn’t even get through the first two words of his sentence as he turns around to see his partner, usually hidden underneath boxy black suits, in the uniform so helpfully provided by the FBI’s training arm. In theory she’s dressed identically to all the other agents there- black t-shirt with the FBI logo, khaki shorts, tennis shoes, weapon holstered at her side. But no one else in their little group has quite the same fit, and his mouth is suddenly bone dry.</p>
<p>Her shirt looks like it has been spray painted on. It clings to the curves that she usually tries to hide. The conveniently placed FBI logo is distorted, stretched over the soft curve of her breasts. It’s just a hair too short, letting a tiny sliver of porcelain skin peak out above the waistband of her shorts. And her shorts- he’s not sure he’s ever seen quite so much Scully leg before. Her legs are pale and dusted with freckles, smooth skin stretched over taut muscle. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling. He’s pretty sure blind men in Afghanistan are drooling.</p>
<p>When that thought hits him, he realizes that the whistles have quieted down as she walks closer to their little group, but the appreciation from the audience has not. “Looking good, Agent Scully,” says Agent Mills. Or Miller. Or Milton? He has no idea, nor does he care. She rolls her eyes and replies, “apparently they only had extra small t-shirts left. So...” she trails off and gestures vaguely at her torso.</p>
<p>He finally remembers to shut his mouth as she uncomfortably tugs the hem of her shirt lower than it wants to go. Then it hits him- she has no idea how hot she looks. She thinks that all these men are staring at her mockingly, and is missing the undisguised lust that makes him want to break a few jaws. Before anyone can say anything too ill advised, or he can even make a fist, the instructor for the day is calling them over to the training course. She catches his eye, smiles and shrugs with embarrassment, and turns around, walking off ahead of him.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Agent m-something’s head tilt in the exact same angle as Scully’s hips. The younger, and clearly unaware, agent lets out a wolf-whistle, and before Mulder knows it, he’s smacked the kid upside the head. Mills has the good sense to look chagrined, but he’s still watching Scully’s tight little khaki encased ass swing temptingly side to side. To be fair, so are all the other agents. And Mulder himself.</p>
<p>But he’s different, he thinks. He doesn’t objectify her, he’s just appreciating her beauty. And he would never treat her as less than just because she beautiful. These other men don’t have any idea how smart, and kind, and funny the woman is who is currently shrink wrapped in what has to be the bureau’s most appealing training uniform ever. They’re treating her like a piece of meat. They don’t care about her, don’t listen to her, don’t love her like he does.</p>
<p>And then his mind is blank. “Love her like he does” trails through the empty space one more time. It’s quiet inside his head for a beat or two, and then he realizes how well and truly fucked he is.</p>
<p>Because Milton can appreciate the view now, maybe even make a comment about Scully at the bar after today’s training, might even get himself off tonight to the thought of peeling that skin tight t-shirt off of her. But Mulder has share a tiny office with her every day. Mulder has to share the cab of countless rental cars with her, desperately cracking jokes to see her smile and relishing the smell of her perfume. Mulder has to gently draw her closer with his fingertips at her lower back, lean in towards her copper hair, and quietly “consult” with her in crowded briefing rooms.</p>
<p>Ok, he doesn’t have to do that last one, but he knows he’s going to. And he doesn’t know how he’s going to do that with his new-found knowledge. How is he going to keep that hand appropriately above her waistband? How is he supposed to resist leaning a few inches closer and tasting the velvet-soft skin just behind her ear? How is he going to fall asleep in cases, separated by one thin motel wall?</p>
<p>He has no answers, just the painful and precious knowledge that his attraction to his partner has transformed into something bigger and scarier than he ever thought possible.</p>
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